frowned down at the plan. ‘Doesn’t anyone other than the military get into the damned place? Aren’t there any civilian workers?’
‘The military handle everything, signor,’ he said firmly and then pulled up short as if at a sudden thought and chuckled. ‘Of course, there are the women, signor. The Friday-night women. I was forgetting those.’
‘And which women would those be?’
‘Another innovation of Colonel Masmoudi’s. He’s fond of the ladies and reasonable enough to realize that plenty of his men are in the same boat, so every Friday night they bring in a couple of truckloads of women from Zabia.’
‘Whores?’
‘But of course, signor.’ He looked bewildered. ‘They must, after all, be capable of serving more than one man. It requires very special talents.’
‘I bet it does,’ I said. ‘And who supplies these ladies?’
He contrived to look suitably modest. ‘Why, I do, signor, and it is no easy matter, I can tell you. After a month or two a change is looked for. I have to bring girls from as far away as Tripoli.’
‘And the trucks?’ I said. ‘Are they allowed in?’
‘Oh, no, signor.’ He shook his head. ‘The women have to dismount outside and are checked in through the gate.’
I sat there for two or three minutes, staring into space and he waited patiently. After a while he said, ‘Is there anything else, signor?’
I shook my head. ‘If I need you again, I’ll send for you.’
He moved to the French window and hesitated. ‘I have been of help, signor?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said. ‘I think you could say that.’
He went out quietly and I lay back, eyes closed, going over it all in my mind and after a while, I dozed.
When I awakened it was evening and just before dusk. It was heavy and oppressive, a hint of rain in the air. I crossed the terrace and took the steps down into the garden. Palms swayed in the slight wind, their branches dark feathers against the evening sky that already showed a star here and there.
I moved on, taking a flight of steps up to the ramparts and found Simone leaning over the wall, staring down at the sea, outlined against a sky the colour of brass. Perhaps she’d noticed me out of the corner of her eye down there in the garden as I approached, but she certainly gave no sign.
I lit a cigarette and flicked the match far out into the darkness. ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’ she said. ‘If you think I’m going to apologize, you’ve come to the wrong shop.’
‘No apologies needed,’ I said. ‘But a few facts would be appreciated.’
‘Such as?’
‘Why you did it would do for starters.’
‘All right, Oliver.’ She turned to face me. ‘It was a job, that’s all. Just another assignment.’
‘Well, you’re a great little actress. I’ll say that for you. You were particularly good at simulating orgasms, by the way. I’ll be happy to give you a reference to that effect any time.’
She struck out at me furiously, but I got a hand up to block the blow. ‘Damn you!’ she said. ‘And just how honest were you with me, anyway?’
‘A fair point,’ I said. ‘Strangely enough I can forgive you nearly all of it, but not Hannah. Never that. That was unforgivable and that was one side of me you did know about. One side of me I never hid from you.’
Which hit home rather satisfactorily. Her shoulders sagged a little and she turned away to look out to sea. ‘Why Stavrou, for God’s sake?’ I said.
‘Because I owe him,’ she replied. ‘Because he’s been good to me. About three years ago I was in love with a man in Paris who trafficked in heroin. I didn’t know it at the time, but when the police moved in, they were going to pull me down with him. I could have got ten years.’
‘And Stavrou saved your hide?’
‘That’s about it.’
‘Oh, I see it now,’ I said. ‘We’ve all misjudged him. Presumably he’s like the toad in the fairy story. One kiss from your delicious lips and he’ll change into a handsome young prince. Now that I can’t wait to see.’
She turned away angrily and we were suddenly hailed by Stavrou. ‘Over here, you two.’
He was on the high terrace and as we went up the steps, someone switched on floodlighting. The table was laid for three only and Stavrou sat at the far end, the waiter standing behind him.
‘Come and join me,’ he said jovially.
I pulled out a chair, Simone hesitated briefly, then sat down. The waiter doled out a local soup made with goat’s cheese and served ice-cold. There was champagne to help things along.
‘And where’s friend Langley tonight?’ I inquired.
‘Entertaining your sister; naturally,’ Stavrou shrugged. ‘After all, one must keep the pretense up.’ I stiffened, which is putting it mildly, and he added good humouredly, ‘No need to fret, I assure you, sir. The idea of any young woman being in danger where Justin is concerned is really quite amusing.’
Which was something, and I continued with the meal with as good a grace as possible under the circumstances. It was excellent and he obviously had a first rate local chef. We had narbe di San Paolo, which is ravioli filled with sugar and cheese and fried, and cannolo to follow and more champagne.
During the entire meal he kept up a running conversation. Everything from politics to art and most things in between. I didn’t say much and neither did Simone.
It was only when I stood up to leave that he suddenly said, ‘You read the file? You’ve seen Zingari? What do you think?’
I said, ‘It’s possible. It could be done with the right organization and workforce.’
There was genuine astonishment on his face. ‘You mean you’ve found a way in?’
‘There’s always a way in if you think hard enough.’ I helped myself to more champagne. ‘Even the Bank of England. In fact a long time ago someone did just that.’
He nodded slowly. ‘All right, how?’
‘That comes later. First I have to see a man called Aldo Barzini.’
‘Why?’
‘Because for this kind of job he’s the best there is.’
He reached for a cigar and the waiter lit it for him. ‘And what does he do when he isn’t working, this Barzini?’
‘Runs a funeral business in Palermo among other things.’
He
